


Scars

by ProdigyBlood



Category: South Park
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Support, Fluff, Friendship, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15404004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/pseuds/ProdigyBlood
Summary: Something is different with Kenny’s curse. Now he’s sometimes left with visible scars that a certain red head notices and becomes concerned over





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently it’s K2 week. This isn’t anything to do with the theme for today - I’ve been working on this for the last week or so. But anyway, as I probably won’t manage to get anything else K2 written this week I thought I’d get this finished and posted today in support of these two precious boys :)

“Hey, Kenny?” In the middle of the busy footpath, Kyle Broflovski stopped walking suddenly, his eyes growing wide in concern. Chewing on his lip, he barely seemed to noice as, huffing in annoyance, a suited man pushed passed him, causing him to stumble. 

“Watch it, asshole!” Kenny McCormick snapped, instantly appearing at his shorter friends side to help him upright. “What a dick,” he said to Kyle. Kyle didn’t seem to care, though. He was too busy gawping at the blond, wide eyed and shameless. “Dude, I know I’m hot but you’re kinda creeping me out. What’s up?”

“That scar…” Kyle all but whispered. “Ken, where did you get that scar?”

Kenny felt his heart plummet. He frowned but didn’t answer, despite knowing exactly what Kyle was talking about. Recently, something was amiss with his curse. Usually when he died (which was often) he’d wake up without any visible evidence of anything ever happening (including everyone’s memories being wiped). Recently, however, things had been changing. People still seemed to not remember his deaths but, suddenly, he found himself with lasting scars that were getting harder and harder to conceal, especially in this unnatural heat that had decided to melt the ever present snow of South Park and encourage its occupants out of their coats for a few days. The scar in question was a jagged white indent along his shoulder blades; a recent addition and one of the worst yet. 

Without thinking, Kenny had let his orange parka slide off his shoulders, finally too hot to stomach wearing his trademark jacket. He was only wearing a loose white vest underneath and the fresh scar was clearly visible beneath it. As big as it was, it was no wonder it had stopped Kyle in his tracks. 

They were still in the bustling street but suddenly it was like it was just the two of them. Kyle stepped around Kenny – who wanted nothing more than to zip back up his parka and turn invisible – to peer at the scar. The blond tensed as Kyle’s fingers brushed against it. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but having Kyle touch him so tenderly was a dream. It did something funny to his stomach, making it do cartwheels. Having Kyle only touch him because of a stupid scar that shouldn’t even be there, though, _hell_ , that was more of a nightmare! 

“It looks really bad,” Kyle said. “How did you get it?” 

Kenny closed his eyes. In his mind he saw the precariously balanced axe and the elbow that knocked it just as he was walking under the ladder. He saw the sharp blade hurtling towards his face and remembered the knowledge that he had no time to dodge, only time to readjust his position so at least it didn’t split his face in half. It had been a stupid way to die. Who the hell took an axe up a ladder and then left it balancing on a window sill in the first place?! Nobody, that was who. Unless Kenny was in the room and then it was all axes all the time, baby.

He could have answered. He could have explained. Perhaps Kyle would have even listened this time. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t faced with some startling evidence. Instead, Kenny pulled away, shrugging back on his hoody and storming silently ahead, leaving a confused Kyle to have to rush to catch up. 

“ _Ken_ – Kenny!” Kyle sounded so startling like his mother in that moment that the blond couldn’t help but stop again in his tracks. Sheila Broflovski was scary, after all. He turned around, fully expecting Kyle to demand answers again, to keep interrogating him in the middle of the street until he had a satisfactory answer. Instead, Kyle wound his arms around him and hugged the taller boy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just hope you’re okay, is all.” 

Kenny froze in Kyle’s arms, surprised by the affectionate action that wasn’t usual between them. It was nice, though, and Kenny couldn’t help but wish it _was_ something they did. He wondered whether Kyle did too. 

When the red head pulled away – far too soon – Kenny said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

“Try me, dude.”

Kenny contemplated it. However, he’d tried many times as a kid and been shot down enough times to make it hurt too much to try again. If Kyle didn’t believe him, which – who was he kidding, of course he wouldn’t! – then Kenny wasn’t sure he could hack it. His curse was bad enough without his friends thinking he was using it for attention. Especially Kyle. The idea of Kyle thinking he was a liar was just worse, somehow. So he shook his head and threw away an easy smile. “Maybe another time,” he said. And, when Kyle opened his mouth to argue, he turned and walked away. 

 

Kenny couldn’t breathe. He clutched at his throat as if applying the right amount of pressure could open his closed airway, pawing desperately at the flesh that refused to behave. It was almost comical how, out of all the ways he could possibly die, he was going to bite the dust choking on a goddamn piece of candy! If he hadn’t of been fighting for air he might have laughed. Hadn’t his mother always told him candy would be the death of him? 

In his desperate struggle, Kenny didn’t see the upturned rug. His foot caught in it and he went sprawling, knocking his head heavily into the nearest work surface. 

The world grew rapidly darker but, ironically, as he’d fallen he’d spat up the little red ball that had been lodged in his throat. _Fucking fantastic._

 

“Kenny?” Kyle was propped up on an elbow, staring down at the blond with furrowed brows. The others were asleep, as they themselves should have been. It was late. Or, depending on how you looked at it, _early._

The five of them were at Cartman’s, having spent the past 12 hours playing video games and eating cold pizza. Butters had crashed out hours ago and Stan and Cartman had followed a while later. Kenny and Kyle had stayed up, side by side, whispering between themselves as to not wake their friends. It felt like a secret; Kenny had been wishing it would never end. That was, of course, until Kyle’s smile had faded and his forehead had creased. Kyle frowned too much. Kenny worried he would wrinkle prematurely. 

“Hmm?” He tried to remain casual but he already knew what Kyle was going to say. In the dull early morning light that snuck in through the open curtains, Kenny was surprised Kyle could see it at all. 

“That scar on your forehead…”

“I tripped, dude. No biggie.” 

“You seem to have a lot of ‘no biggie’ scars recently, man. I’m worried about you.” 

“Don’t be,” Kenny said despite the fact that having Kyle worry about him warmed his heart. He wasn’t sure when that had become a thing. 

Kyle flopped down again and was silent for a while. Kenny was starting to think he’d finally fallen asleep when he spoke. “Ken, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He was sure he would regret that response but if couldn’t say no to Kyle. 

“When we were kids you used to claim that you kept dying and that none of us ever remembered.” Kenny tensed. He remembered it very well. As a child his curse had been a burden he’d been desperate to share and yet his friends never believed him. Over the years he’d learned it best to keep quiet about the hand he’d been cruelly dealt. He learned to suffer alone and in silence, as was, he expected, intended. God could be damn cruel sometimes. 

“That’s not a question,” he said stiffly. 

“…Is it true?” 

Kenny was sure his heart stopped beating then. Kyle wasn’t supposed to ask that. Kyle wasn’t supposed to even consider the fact that it might be true. Kenny didn’t know how to handle this. His usual was to laugh and brush it off as a joke but that just seemed inappropriate right now. Sometimes a lie was for the best but right now was not one of those moments. 

“Ken?”

Kenny sighed and closed his eyes. This was really happening. He was doing this. “My back,” he said, “Some moron had taken an axe up a ladder. He knocked it just as I was passing and it hit me right in the spine. I bled out. 

“Two days ago I was choking and I tripped. Bashed my head in on a counter top.” He couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth. Surely Kyle would laugh and congratulate him on his creativity. The red head wouldn’t believe him… Surely not…

“And this happens a lot?” Kyle asked quietly, something in his voice akin to pain. Kenny rolled over onto his side, opening his eyes to stare at the other boy. What was going on? Had he been transported to some parallel world? Why was Kyle buying this? 

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you have more scars?” Kyle reached out and brushed his fingers softly against the fresh one on his forehead. Kenny’s traitorous eyes flickered shut at the tender touch. 

“The scars are new,” he managed to breath out when Kyle’s hand retracted. “I don’t know what’s happening. Maybe the curse is getting weaker? Maybe in another few years one of my deaths will be final.” It was the first thought he’d had when he’d noticed his first scar. The idea of it hadn’t terrified him as much as it should have. Dying repeatedly took a lot from him. Sometimes Kenny wished for oblivion. 

“Don’t,” Kyle said, eyes widening. “Don’t think that. If you were to die… I…” He shook his head and didn’t finish his sentence. 

“Do you… _believe_ me?” Kenny hardly dared believe it true. He blinked at Kyle, certain the red head had to be playing some cruel joke. _Any minute,_ he thought, _any minute now and he’ll crack a grin and say ‘of course not!’_

“I do,” Kyle said so quietly he was barely audible. “I’d probably believe you anyway but the scars… Dude, the one on your back. I don’t see how you could have survived an injury like that.”

Kenny opened his mouth but words failed him. This wasn’t right. This didn’t make sense. Nobody believed him, not ever. He couldn’t help the tears the welled up in his eyes. He rolled onto his back again, hoping Kyle wouldn’t notice but a moment later, Kyle was hovering over him again. 

“Does anybody know?” Kyle sounded as if he knew the answer and it broke his heart. Kenny shook his head, futilely trying to avoid those brilliant green eyes that were so easy to get lost in. “You’ve had to deal with this all by yourself?” 

“I tried to tell you.”

“Dude, I was ten.”

“Ten-year-olds believe all sorts of crap.”

“Yeah, fake crap. Believing real stuff is harder at that age. I’m so sorry you’ve been suffering alone, Ken.”

“Not your fault.” Kenny sniffed. All he’d ever wanted was to have somebody believe him. Now that he did – and that somebody was Kyle – he wasn’t sure how to react. He just felt _shocked_. He still expected it all to turn out to be some huge joke but Kyle wouldn’t do that… would he? 

“Is there anything you can do?” 

“I swear to God if you say ‘like be more careful’-!” Death was out to get him. Being careful had nothing to do with it!

“No,” Kyle shook his head, “I just mean… Have you researched? Maybe there’s someone out there who can help? Get rid of the curse for you, or something?” It was something Kenny had considered over the years but he couldn’t be sure that Death being out for him was part of the curse. Maybe, if he somehow found a ‘cure’ then Death would still come for him and he wouldn’t be able to return. Then again, perhaps that could be a blessing in disguise. 

“There’s nothing out there, dude,” Kenny said. “It’s just how it is.”

“But that’s – ”

“It’s how it is.”

“And you remember each time?” Kenny only nodded. “Jesus, man.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Kenny said. “We should sleep.” Kenny knew neither of them would be getting any sleep that night, though. 

 

Things changed between Kenny and Kyle after that. Kenny supposed it was inevitable. You couldn’t really share such a big secret and _not_ be brought closer. 

At lunch breaks Kyle had always sat opposite Kenny. Now he sat beside him. They hung out more, just the two of them. It didn’t go unnoticed by their other friends. Cartman started cracking ‘homo’ jokes, Stan gave them lingering, curious stares and Butters smiled even more brightly when he saw them, as if he knew something they didn’t. And, all the while, Kenny’s longing for Kyle just increased. He was Kenny McCormick. He flirted with everyone. He was never shy about asking people out. But Kyle was different. Kyle was his best friend. Kyle was… Kyle was _Kyle._ And Kenny didn’t know how the red head felt about him. 

So he kept it quiet. He kept it secret. He kept it close to his chest, by his heart which fluttered erratically, desperate to escape, whenever Kyle got too close. 

They were walking home together when the car swerved out of nowhere. Kenny was used to this. What he _wasn’t_ used to was being with somebody else when it happened. Sure, he’d died in front of his friends plenty of times (and yet they _never_ remembered!) but never in a way that put them at risk too. Here, in this situation that was playing out as if in slow motion in Kenny’s eyes, Kyle was at risk too. The car was heading directly for them and there was no way the red head wouldn’t be hit. 

Kenny acted on instinct, shoving Kyle as hard as he could. He saw him stumble away but before Kenny could register whether he was safe or not, he was flying over the car bonnet, feeling the familiar sensation of his body being broken beyond repair. Somehow the cars _always_ managed to kill him. Just once, it would be nice to survive. Just once, it would be great if he could just spend a few weeks in hospital recovering. At least then any scars that lingered would feel deserved...

 

Kenny text Kyle as soon as he woke in bed. When fifteen minutes passed and he didn’t get a reply (Kyle was a notoriously fast replier) he tried phoning the red head. When he _still_ didn’t get an answer he somehow managed to text Stan despite the fact that his fingers had started trembling violently and his vision was swimming with a build up of panicked tears. What if he hadn’t managed to save Kyle? Or, even worse, what if when he’d pushed him, Kyle had hit his head and bled out before anyone could arrive on the scene? Kenny couldn’t live with himself if that were the case. He couldn’t be the reason Kyle was dead. And yet, as cruel fate would have it, he would _have_ to live with it. _Forever._

_Where the hell have you been?!_ Stan text back almost immediately. Shit, how long had he been gone? Kenny rushed to check the calendar on his phone but it was only the next day. 

He phoned Stan. 

“Kyle’s in hospital. I tried ringing you, dude,” Stan said before Kenny could get a word in edgeways. Kenny felt his blood freeze in his veins. 

“…Is he…” He couldn’t even finish that sentence. 

“He’s fine, mild concussion. He was unconscious at the scene but woke up a couple of hours ago,” Stan practically waved him off, “But he was going on about you being with him and getting hit by the car. You weren’t there, right?” There was accusation in Stan’s tone, as if he was picturing Kenny leaving Kyle unconscious and alone on the side of the road. 

“Do you really think I’d have just left Kyle by himself if I’d have been there?” Kenny snarled. If he’d had a choice in the matter of course he wouldn’t have left Kyle. It pissed him off a little that Stan would even think that, even given the evidence that Kyle had prov- 

-Kyle had said he was with Kenny? That Kenny had been hit by a car?

It couldn’t be possible. By the time he’d woken up all memories of Kenny being with him should have vanished. Nobody could ever remember his deaths, it was just the way it was. It had always been like that and it always would. Kenny couldn’t even let himself hope otherwise. It would only lead to crushing, inevitable disappointment. 

“-ny? _Kenny_?” 

“Ah, sorry,” Kenny said. “I’m on my way to Hells Pass now. See ya soon.” He hung up before Stan could get another word out. 

It wasn’t possible. _Wasn’t probable._ And yet, Kenny found himself hoping beyond hope as he pulled his shoes on and fled the house, stealing his dad’s keys on his way out even though he knew he shouldn’t. Even though he knew it would only end in heartbreak. Beside’s, did he really _honestly_ want Kyle to be burdened with the memories of his death? Even if he came back, it still couldn’t be pleasant to watch. Despite that, however selfish it was, Kenny longed for someone to remember. To have someone he could talk to. To have someone he could rant to, someone he could cry to, someone who would hold him and tell him it wasn’t all that bad. And, more than anyone, he wanted that someone to be Kyle. Kyle, the boy who noticed his scars. The boy who cared enough to ask. 

Kyle. The boy Kenny was hopelessly in love with. 

He was careless on his way to Hells Pass but fortunate was smiling down on him – for once – and Kenny didn’t die, despite a close call at a red light. 

A nurse pointed out Kyle’s room and he skidded towards it, throwing it open and instantly seeking out the beautiful green eyes that widened upon seeing him. He stood there, in the doorway, frozen. 

“Uh, I’ll go find your mom,” Stan said awkwardly, looking between his two friends. Kenny only moved as the noirette squeezed past him. 

“Stan said you were okay but – ” Kyle was the first to speak and, from how his voice shook, he remembered. _He remembered._

“How?” Kenny croaked. “How do you remember?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because of the situation? You pushed me and I hit my head on the pavement at the same time as you hit the ground. I know you’d already told me you always came back but when I saw you fly over that car I was sure – ” Kyle cut off, unable to continue. Kenny’s feet, previously frozen to the spot, found momentum and carried him forward until he was sitting on the edge of Kyle’s bed, leaning over to hug the red head against him. 

“I’m sorry you remember,” he said into those glorious curls. 

“I’m not.” They pulled apart but remained close, still in one another’s arms. Kyle scrutinised him. “You have a new scar,” he said finally, gently touching Kenny’s face, finger brushing by his right eye. 

“At this rate I’ll be more scar than sex god. However will I pull?” Kenny joked.

“I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem with that,” Kyle said. Kenny smirked.

“Do I detect jealously in your tone, Mr Broflovski?”

“I have a concussion. It’s playing havoc with my brain.”

“Liar. Admit it dude, you want me.” Kenny had only been joking around but Kyle’s hands, still on his arms, squeezed that little bit tighter. He smirked further. “I can’t blame you, really. I _am_ pretty irresistible.”

“You’re a douche-bag is what you are,” Kyle grumbled. He didn’t release Kenny’s arms though. 

“Well then, I guess I better leave. You surely don’t want to associate with a _douche-bag._ ” He made as if to pull away but Kyle gripped him tighter. _Called it._

“Stay.”

“How long for?” Their words to each other were coming out breathy and somewhere along the line their hands had found each other’s and their fingers had entwined. Kenny didn’t know when that had happened. All he knew was that he never wanted to let go of those fingers ever again. 

“Forever,” Kyle said quietly, squeezing his hands. 

They really were quite close, Kenny realised. He could quite easily lean down and kiss Kyle…

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Thank you for remembering.”

“If I ever forget again you have permission to kick my ass.”

“I’d rather spank it,” Kenny murmured. When had their lips gotten so close? He could feel Kyle’s warm breath tickling his nose. They were so close that he was going cross eyed. He closed his eyes, leaning closer, ready to close the distance between them –

“-I got you lunch, Bubbeh.” Timely as ever, Sheila Broflovski entered the room, carrying a tray. Kenny sprung away from Kyle for fear of a negative outburst, disappointment swelling in his chest. “Oh, hello, Kenny dear.” 

“Hi, Mrs. B,” Kenny said, glancing at Kyle who, thankfully, looked equally disappointed. 

“Mom, could you get me a coffee?”

“I don’t know if caffeine is the best thing right now – ”

“Please?” Apparently Sheila couldn’t say no to her injured son. Placing the tray down she promised to be ‘back in a minute’. 

“A minute, ay?” Kenny cocked an eyebrow at Kyle as the door clicked shut but, before he could say or do anything further, Kyle launched himself at the blond, practically attacking his lips with his own. Kenny didn’t let his surprise prevent him from kissing back. They remained lip-locked until Sheila returned, somehow managing to drag themselves apart before the infuriating woman noticed anything. 

“Oh bubbeh, you’re looking a little warm,” Shiela said as she handed Kyle his coffee. “Should I fetch the doctor?” 

Kyle glanced at Kenny with a small smirk before answering. “Yes, ma, I think you should.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen people use all sorts of different spellings for Sheila’s Yiddish endearment to Kyle and I’m not sure what the correct spelling is (especially since Google is claiming they all mean ‘grandmother’????!) so apologies if I got it wrong haha.


End file.
